by Margot Hunt
“But they’ve been married for a while, correct?”
“Over twenty years. Their oldest daughter graduated from college last year.”
“Then there must be some substance to the marriage.”
Kat shot me a strange look. “What does that mean?”
“Surely something more than an unplanned pregnancy must have kept them together all of those years.”
“What kept them together was a quick succession of children, coupled with a lack of a prenuptial agreement.” Kat shook her head and stirred her drink with her straw. “Why? What did she say to you about me?”
“What?” I asked, distracted by the thought of what it must be like to live all those years under such hostile familial scrutiny. I hadn’t liked Ashley, but even so, spending two decades knowing your husband’s family didn’t think you were good enough for him seemed a horrible burden for anyone to bear.
“You said she didn’t like me. What did she say?”
I hesitated. I didn’t want to start off our weekend on a sour note.
“Just tell me,” Kat insisted.
“It wasn’t anything too terrible. She just made a comment about how she thinks you use people. And she started going on about someone named Marcia something.” I laughed. “I only remember that part because of The Brady Bunch. You know, ‘Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!’”
“Marcia Grable? Jesus, I haven’t thought about her in years.” Kat shook her head. “I can’t believe Ashley brought her up.”
“Why? Who is she?”
“She’s a yoga instructor. Or at least, she used to be. I have no idea what she’s doing now.” Kat sighed and shook her head. “I met her when I signed up for some classes at the yoga studio where she taught. We were friendly for a while. But then she began showing up everywhere I went. Restaurants, boutiques, even the grocery store. It started to get a little creepy.”
“You were being stalked by your yoga instructor?”
“Yes!” Kat laughed. “I know, it’s bizarre, right? Welcome to my life. But honestly, it was really weird.” She shook her head and took a sip of her drink. “I tried setting limits with her. I thought she’d get the message and back off.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No, she did not. Instead she showed up on my doorstep on Thanksgiving Day holding a pumpkin pie, insisting that I’d invited her to dinner. When I told her I had no idea what she was talking about, she went hysterical. My entire family was there, including Awful Ashley. And there was Marcia, crying on her pie and saying something about how we were supposed to be best friends. She left only when I threatened to call the police.”
“That passes weird and veers right into scary.”
“Tell me about it.” Kat shuddered. “I mean, I felt sorry for her in a way. She was obviously not well. But it was hardly my fault.”
“No, of course it wasn’t.”
“My darling sister-in-law apparently thinks it was,” Kat said, taking another sip of her mojito.
“Two more,” Hudson announced, appearing with another round of fresh mojitos for us. I looked down at my empty glass in surprise. I hadn’t realized I’d finished the drink.
“Excellent,” Kat said, handing Hudson her own empty glass. “You are my new favorite bartender.”
“I aim to please.” Hudson winked at Kat, and she smiled a creamy, self-satisfied smile back at him.
Kat picked up her glass, ready for another toast. “To having the best damned weekend possible,” she said, and I tapped my glass against hers.
* * *
We dined on carne asada and drank a bottle of pinot noir at the Cantina Beach, the hotel’s restaurant overlooking the ocean. The food was delicious, although by the time we finished, the alcohol was causing my head to swim and I felt pleasantly drowsy.
“Do you feel like a nightcap?” Kat asked after she’d signed the bill, waving away my attempts to put my close-to-the-limit credit card in the leather bill holder. “They have a fabulous bar here, and you know how I feel about hotel bars. They’re my favorite thing in the world.”
I had noticed that alcohol never seemed to affect Kat, or at least not the way it affected everyone else. Her eyes might get brighter, her laugh a bit louder, but she never became sloppy. I thought about Todd’s comment that I was drinking more since Kat and I had become friends. It had annoyed me deeply at the time, but partly because I knew he was right. Kat was always up for another drink, and another, and another. I needed to be more careful, and right now the last thing I wanted or needed was any more alcohol in my system.
“I think I’ve had enough to drink for the night, but I’ll keep you company,” I said.
The bar was pretty fantastic. It had a cozy, clubby feel, with red walls and leather armchairs and sofas. Next door, in the lobby lounge, a Latin band was playing. Couples started to dance, some of them surprisingly good. They took their salsa dancing seriously.
Kat sat down on an empty love seat, while I claimed the adjacent chair. When a waitress came over, Kat ordered us each a vodka martini.
“One straight up with a twist, one extra dirty with a blue cheese–stuffed olive,” she said.
“No, thanks,” I said. “If I have a martini, I’ll pass out.”
The cocktail waitress raised her eyebrows, unsure how to proceed.
“I’ll just have a glass of water,” I said.
“No, she’ll have the martini.” Kat’s voice had an edge to it.
The waitress hesitated but then nodded and left.
“Why did you do that? I really don’t want a martini.” I was starting to feel bullied.
“But I hate drinking alone,” Kat said. She turned to smile at me, back to her usual charming self. “It’s just like the night we first met, when we had martinis at the airport. You said you couldn’t possibly, and then you proceeded to drink two.”
“Only because you talked me into it,” I said. “You’re clearly a bad influence.”
“I certainly hope so,” Kat retorted. “I’d hate to die and have everyone stand around at my funeral, talking about what a saint I was. I’d much rather be remembered as a hell-raiser. This music is great, isn’t it?”
“You should go dance.”
“Maybe I will, if a handsome stranger asks me,” Kat said. She stretched her arms up over her head and grinned. “I feel like dancing. I feel like dancing and flirting and making mischief.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve flirted with anyone, I probably wouldn’t remember how.”
“I have a hard time picturing you ever flirting with anyone. You’re too collected, too analytical.”
I arched my eyebrows. “I didn’t just spontaneously burst into being as an adult logician. Believe it or not, I was once a teenager. I did all sorts of silly teenager things.”
Kat snorted. “I don’t believe it. I’m sure you were the quiet, serious type who got straight As and never went to parties. All of the boys had crushes on you, I’ll bet, but you were so aloof and untouchable, they were afraid to approach you.”
“Aloof and untouchable?” I repeated. “That’s actually insulting.”
“No, it’s not. You’re like the heroine of a Hitchcock movie.”
“Hardly,” I said, feeling secretly pleased at this description.
“No, you are. I would love to be seen as a beautiful ice queen,” Kat exclaimed. “But I’m too much of a chatterbox to pull it off. Hitchcock heroines can’t be bigmouthed broads. It’s all wrong for the narrative.”
I was rolling my eyes at this just as the waitress returned with our martinis. She’d carefully placed our drinks and a bowl of nuts on our table.
“Thank you.” Kat picked up her drink and took a sip. “Mmm. This is delicious.”
“What do you want to do tomorrow?” I asked. “There’s a state park nearby, if you feel like hikin
g.”
“Are you insane? If I want to go for a walk, I’ll go to the mall,” Kat said. “I’m planning to spend all day tomorrow in a lounge chair on the beach. They have little flags on the back that you can put up whenever you want a drink. It’s fabulous.”
I smiled and thought it did sound nice. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent an entire day doing absolutely nothing. No writing or tutoring or dishwashing or laundry or homework assistance. It had been years, I thought, because even our sporadic family vacations didn’t offer a break from the daily grind of parenting. But now I would have one day, one perfect day, when I wouldn’t be required to do anything other than flip through magazines and reapply sunscreen. Despite my best intentions, I picked up the martini and took a sip.
“That does sound pretty fabulous,” I said, leaning back in my squishy leather seat, drink in hand.
“Look who’s here,” Kat said. She sat up, her eyes bright, and smiled at someone. “It’s the mojito man.”
I turned my head and saw Hudson just as he spotted us. He waved and I thought he’d leave it at that—surely he was meeting friends closer to his age—but he surprised me by walking over. He stood in front of us, smiling his dimple-cheeked smile.
“How did I know I’d find you two ladies here?”
“Were you looking for us?” Kat asked.
“Definitely.”
Hudson had changed out of his work uniform and was wearing a kelly green polo shirt, seersucker shorts and brown deck shoes with no socks. I wondered how old he was and thought he had to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Young enough to have a name like Hudson, anyway.
Hudson was looking down at Kat—who in her late forties was certainly attractive and smart and, yes, still sexy—with open, almost hungry interest. I was struck again by how handsome he was, with his boyish good looks, thick brown hair and square jaw. His eyes, which I had noticed earlier when he was working at the bar, were an unusual shade. I’d thought they were hazel at first, but now they looked almost green. He had them fixed on Kat now, while the corners of his lips were curled up in a faint smile.
I wondered at his motives. Was he focusing on Kat because he found her irresistible...or because she was wealthy? It probably wasn’t hard for him to figure that out. Most of the guests at a hotel like this were well-off. And then there was Kat’s credit card, an American Express Black Card, that Hudson had commented on when she paid for our drinks. He’d tapped it against a glass and laughed at the metallic clink it made.
“I was just telling Alice I was hoping a handsome man would come ask me to dance,” Kat said now.
“It sounds like my services are required.” Hudson held out a hand.
I choked back a laugh at this corny line, especially when I saw Kat light up, stand and take his proffered hand. I was mesmerized by both her easy acceptance of this flirtation and his lack of discomfiture. Kat glanced at me and gave me the ghost of a wink, which I wasn’t sure how to take.
Hudson led Kat out to the dance area just beyond the bar. I sipped my drink while I watched them through the arched doorway, moving together, hips swaying in rhythm, hands clasped. Hudson was the better dancer, good enough that he was able to lead Kat through the moves. He spun her around at one point and Kat nearly lost her balance. She laughed up at him, her cheeks flushed.
Hudson suddenly pulled Kat closer to him. Keeping one hand on the small of Kat’s back, cupping the other behind her head, he lowered his mouth to hers. I felt like a voyeur as I watched them kiss, standing still in the middle of the floor, while the other couples danced around them, but I couldn’t seem to look away.
Kat, I thought, I hope you know what you’re doing.
18
The next morning I woke alone in the hotel suite that Kat and I were sharing. I had my own room, and as soon as my eyes opened, I sat up abruptly. The air felt still around me. I swung my legs out of bed, stood and padded through the communal living room. Everything looked unchanged since I’d gone to sleep the night before, which didn’t surprise me. I was a light sleeper and would probably have woken if Kat had returned to our room. Since I hadn’t, I assumed she’d been out all night. Still, I hesitated for a moment. If Kat had come back, I didn’t want to wake her. I pressed my ear to the door of her bedroom, but I couldn’t hear anything from within. After a moment, I creaked open the door. I wasn’t surprised to see that her bed was empty and still neatly made up.
I’d left Kat and Hudson still enmeshed together on the dance floor when I retired the night before. I assumed that wherever Kat was, she was with him. I checked my phone, but she hadn’t texted or called.
I showered and dressed in a cotton embroidered tunic over an aqua bikini, then headed downstairs. The hotel served breakfast buffet style, and I had the choice of eating inside or out on the patio. It looked like a glorious day, so I opted for the alfresco dining option and requested a table for one. But when the hostess walked me outside, Kat was already there, sitting at a table with Hudson. She waved me over.
“Come sit with us,” she called out, gesturing toward an open rattan chair.
Both Kat and Hudson were wearing their clothes from the night before, and Kat’s face was scrubbed free of makeup. It seemed odd and vaguely uncomfortable to be sitting with my married friend and the man she had apparently picked up the night before. But as they didn’t seem at all embarrassed, I tried to tamp down my own discomfort.
“Hi,” I said, keeping my tone bright. “How’s breakfast?”
“The eggs Benedict is fabulous,” Kat replied. “You should try it. You have to order them from the waitress, though. They’re not part of the buffet.”
“Looks good.” I glanced over at Hudson, who was not eating the decadent eggs Benedict. Instead his plate was filled with what looked like egg whites scrambled with peppers and onions and a side dish of cut fruit.
“He doesn’t eat carbs.” Kat shuddered. “Can you imagine such a bleak and horrible existence? No pasta, no bread. I wouldn’t make it through a single day eating like that.”
Although Kat was supposedly speaking to me, she was smiling coyly at Hudson. He grinned back at her, enjoying the attention. I was ancillary to the conversation. My presence, it seemed, was useful only to give them another topic to flirt over.
“How do you think I maintain my six-pack?” he bragged.
“I thought you must just do a lot of sit-ups.” She laughed, reaching over to pat his flat stomach.
As if this display weren’t nauseating enough, Hudson then murmured, “That, too,” leaned forward and kissed her. When I caught sight of tongues flicking, I stood abruptly and headed inside to the buffet. I wished I had requested a table inside so I could have eaten my breakfast in peace. I certainly had no interest in trying to choke down a plateful of eggs while Kat and Hudson pawed at one another like horny teenagers.
I was also already resentful about this awkward situation being imposed on our plans for a day of beachside lounging. If Kat had wanted to have a revenge affair—if that was what this was—why did she have to pick our weekend away together to do it?
I got in line at the omelet station, although unlike Hudson, I ordered mine with whole eggs, cheese and bacon.
When I got back to the table, Hudson was gone. Kat was sitting alone, looking relaxed and happy while she sipped a mimosa.
I almost asked Where’s your boyfriend? but managed to stop myself. I didn’t want to sound as churlish as I felt. Instead I said, “Where did Hudson run off to?”
“He went home to shower and change. He has to work this afternoon,” Kat said. She took a sip from her champagne flute. “Mmm, I love mimosas. You should get one. It’s delicious. I swear, everything tastes better here.”
I was starting to have concerns about how this trip would affect my liver.
“No, thanks” was all I managed to say between forkfuls of food.
Kat flagged down a passing waiter. He stopped at our table, smiling subserviently.
Kat ordered, “Two more mimosas, please.”
“Right away, madam,” he replied and hurried off.
“God, I hate being called madam,” Kat said, making a face. “Can’t we women band together and get that word struck from the English language?”
“Why did you order two? I just told you I didn’t want one.” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was so irritable—whether it was Hudson or Kat’s disappearing act the night before or the fact that she did not listen to me when I said I didn’t want to start imbibing at nine in the morning—but I couldn’t keep the sharp barb out of my tone.
Kat stared at me. “Well, excuse me. I thought we were on vacation, but you certainly don’t have to drink it if you don’t want it.” She drawled out the words in an exaggerated way.
She sounded so much like a moody, hormonal teenager, I couldn’t help smiling.
“You sound like you’re fifteen,” I said when Kat scowled at me.
My words dispelled the frostiness. Kat laughed, too, and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.
“I feel like I’m fifteen,” she confessed. “This is crazy, isn’t it? But then Hudson touches me and I’m just—” She stopped and shook her head. “I don’t know. Like I’m not in charge of whatever is happening. Does that sound silly?”
It did, but I shook my head. “No, of course not.”
Kat smiled condescendingly. “I’ve shocked you. I had no idea you were so provincial, Alice.”
My irritation flared back up. I was quickly losing patience with this situation. I didn’t like Howard, but he was Kat’s husband. She had chosen to marry him, and more to the point, she had chosen to remain married to him after he cheated on her. Even if she had her reasons not to divorce him—whether they were money or fear of being alone or simply not wanting to give up on the marriage—it had still been her choice. Yet here she was, acting selfish and silly, and she had the nerve to mock me for failing to embrace her adultery?
There was a brief pause while the waiter arrived with the two mimosas.
